A Perfect Match II — Stories Best Left Unwritten
by Savannah Singleton
Summary: A short take-off of the recent episode titled "Back in the Day" to include Nicole in the storyline, and her reaction to the "tell-all" book soon to be released by Frank's friend and former partner, Lenny Ross.
1. Part One — Surprise Bomb

Frank sucked in a deep puff of his cigar, oblivious to it's fine flavor he had savored during the past hour, a flavor enhanced by the equally fine glass of scotch in front of him. He held the smoke in for a good two seconds before releasing it into the already smoke-filled private room. The three men seated at the restaurant table with him continued to chat and smoke their own cigars, none of them aware of the sudden change in his demeanor, the furrowed brow replacing the smile he'd held throughout the evening of drinking and reminiscing with his old pals. His mind reeled as it processed the surprise bomb Lenny Ross had just dropped on them.

Frank and Lenny had been partners during their rookie days on the force, and had maintained a close friendship since. During those early years they'd shared a great deal of memorable times, both on the job and off, some of them honorable, some of them anything but. Lenny loved recounting these stories over drinks with the guys, and Frank enjoyed the trips down memory lane. Life had been much simpler back then, when he was a beat cop much like his youngest son Jamie was now, back when every decision he made on the job didn't directly affect the whole city, the whole New York City Police Department.

No one could tell a story, no one could captivate his audience, quite like Lenny. Unlike most story-tellers, Lenny never enhanced his stories. He stayed true to the facts, right down to the slightest detail. And now Frank had just learned that his friend had written all these stories in a soon-to-be-released book for the whole world to read, stories Frank preferred to remain told only in the privacy of bars and back rooms over drinks with close friends.

When Frank expressed concern with such a book, Lenny asked why. "What are you afraid of, Frank?"

"I can tell you what he's afraid of," George, one of the other pals at the table, offered. "He's afraid of spoiling his perfect image with that beautiful wife of his. Doesn't want her to know what a hellcat he was back in the day."

Marcus and Lenny laughed.

Frank took a sip of his drink, then placed the glass back on the table. "Nicole knows I'm not perfect."

"Does she, Frank?" Lenny asked.

"Of course she does. She's shared my bed long enough."

"Ohh….getting personal here, are we, Frank?" George teased.

"Oh come on! You know what I meant."

"I think all that was included in her last novel, wasn't it, Frank?" Marcus continued the ribbing.

After taking another puff of his cigar, Frank replied with raised eyebrows. "I assure you, gentlemen, what takes place in the Reagan bedroom, stays in the Reagan bedroom."

"Or doesn't happen," George said, concentrating on the glass of Cognac he twirled in his hands.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

George shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing personal, Frank. It just that none of us are getting any younger. Sometimes the old plumbing just doesn't work like it used to."

"Speak for yourself. My plumbing works just fine."

"Can I add that to the book, Frank?"

"No, Lenny, you cannot!"

While George and Marcus flooded Lenny with questions about his book, Frank sat in silence, sipping on the last bit of scotch, deeply troubled, certain that the stories in Lenny's book would not reflect well on him, or his position as police commissioner. But he couldn't deny — at least to himself — that he was also worried about his wife's reaction. There were many things in his past he'd shared with her, but plenty more he hadn't shared. He'd felt no need; they were just that — the past. He'd expected them to stay just that, but now they would be revived, through Lenny's book.

He sighed as he swallowed the last of his drink.

* * *

Nicole's head jerked up when Frank entered their bedroom. She closed the book she'd been reading while waiting for him to return from his evening out with the guys, pushed herself up straighter in the bed, as she placed the book on her bedside table, then leaned back against the down pillows.

"Hi, sweetheart. I didn't hear you come in. How was your evening?"

"Interesting," Frank replied as he removed his tie, not sure how else to describe it.

"Sounds like there's a story there." Nicole patted the bed on Frank's side. "Come to bed and tell me all about it."

Frank leaned across the bed and kissed her. "Just give me a minute."

He disappeared into the bathroom, returning several minutes later wearing plaid boxer shorts only, his hairy chest bare. As he climbed into the bed and settled in next to Nicole, he said, "Seems you're not the only writer among us. Lenny has recently penned a book as well."

"Has he?" Nicole had met Lenny a couple of times, including at her and Frank's wedding, though she did not know him well. "Well, you always said he was a master at telling stories, so I guess it shouldn't come as a big surprise that he decided to try his hand in writing. So, what kind of book? Is he going to bump me off the best-seller list?"

"Unfortunately, Lenny's book, _Back in the Day,_ is based on fact, not fiction." Though Frank had no doubt it included plenty of romance, or at least sex. He cringed as one particular wild night involving a couple of flight attendants — stewardesses, as they were called at the time — flashed in his head.

"Why is that unfortunate, Frank?"

"Because _Back in the Day_ is about Lenny's early days as a cop. His and mine."

Nicole sat up straight in the bed, turned her body to face Frank. "You're in his book?"

"Afraid so."

"Wow!" Nicole leaned back against her pillows. "I can't wait to read it."

"You'll get your chance soon enough. He sent a copy of it home with me."

"So where is it?"

"I left it downstairs."

"So go down and get it, Frank. I want to read it."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Why not?"

"Because I want to read it first, make sure I even want you to read it."

"Why wouldn't you want me to read it?"

"Because I'm not that proud of some of the things we did back then." Frank picked at a piece of lint on the bed quilt, unable to look Nicole in the eye as he spoke.

"Oh, well, now you've really got me interested!" Nicole threw the covers back, turned her back to Frank.

"What are you doing?"

Turning back to face him, she replied, "I'm going downstairs to get the book. Where did you leave it?"

"Nicole! Forget the book." Frank's attention immediately focused on Nicole's left breast halfway exposed. One of the spaghetti straps of her pink negligee had slipped off her shoulder, and the tease of it immediately aroused him. "I have a better idea."

"Oh, you do, do you?"

Frank rolled over on his side, raised his eyebrows. "Yes I do. Something much more entertaining than reading." He leaned over, pressed his lips to hers. He no longer wanted to talk, or even think about Lenny Ross's tell-all book. "You do know this is my favorite gown, don't you," he said, as he ran his fingers down her bare arm, pushing the strap further down until her breast was fully exposed. Her skin felt soft and smooth to his touch.

"Yes, I do. Why do you think I wear it so often?"

"Do you know what I like most about it?" He whispered as he nibbled her ear, all the while inhaling the intoxicating aroma of her body lotion, a combination of sweet peony and jasmine.

"The way the thin, silky fabric clings to my perfect body?" she replied, repeating a line from one of her romance novels.

Frank's raised his eyebrows. "Well, there is certainly that. But I mostly like the ease of removing it."

He slid the second strap from her shoulder; both breasts now fully exposed.

Nicole reached over to the reading lamp on the table, flipped it off, then lowered herself in the bed.

Easing her fingers through Frank's hair, she let out a soft sight as his lips touched her bare skin.

"You're right, Frank, this is definitely better than reading. Much better."


	2. Part Two — Son-Father Chats

Frank sipped on his third cup of coffee, staring down at the paperback book in front of him. Unable to fall asleep after making love to Nicole the night before, he'd waited until he was certain she was sound asleep, then he'd slipped out of the bed and downstairs to his study, where he'd spent the next two hours reading Lenny's book. He'd found it worse than he had imagined. Lenny had included everything, with not one single detail left out.

He rubbed his fingers hard over his temples, his elbows on the table, then shoved the book away from him, toward the center of the table, annoyed the Lenny had felt the need to add so much private, personal stuff about them both. He removed his glasses long enough to rub his tired eyes, then turned as the floor creaked behind him.

"Oh. Morning, Pop. You're up early."

"I was about to say the same about you, Francis." Henry tightened the belt of his red and black plaid flannel robe as he shuffled over to the coffee maker next to the kitchen sink. Lifting the carafe up and examining the contents of it, he said, "Looks like you've been up for a while." He reached into the cabinet above, pulled out his favorite mug. After pouring himself a cup of the coffee, he pulled out the chair across the table from Frank, and took a seat.

"What's this?" He reached for the paperback, pulled it toward him, flipped it around. " _Back in the Day?_ Lenny Ross? As in your old friend and partner Lenny?"

"Yep. That's the one. He's in town for a couple of days. A few of us old buddies got together for drinks last night. And he hit us with that. You know all those stories he loves to repeat about our good ole days?"

"Yeah…?"

"Well, they're all in there, every... last... detail." Frank pointed to the book as he spoke.

Henry frowned as he opened the book, began to thumb through it. "Oh my. That can't be good."

"No. Trust me, it isn't."

"So that's what had you up in the middle of the night. How bad is it?"

"Bad enough."

"Does Nicole know about it?"

Frank shook his head yes as he took a sip of his coffee. "I told her about it when I got home."

"What'd she say?"

"You know Nicole, Pop. She wanted to start reading it right away. I had a hard time keeping her from it."

"I bet she did. So how did you prevent it?"

Frank tilted his head from side to side. "Let's just say I managed to distract her."

"Aww….I see." Henry's eyebrows raised as his mouth curved into a smile. "Good thinking, Francis."

Frank smiled to himself as he finished his coffee, recalling that it hadn't been his head in control at the time.

He stood, pushed his chair in, placed his empty cup in the sink. "Guess I'll be on my way." Grabbing his overcoat from the coat rack next to the back door, he slipped it on. Pulling gloves from the pocket of it, he added, "I have a feeling it's going to be a long day. I'm hoping the sooner I get it started, the sooner it will be over." He reached for the book. "Not sure who I dread more reading this — Nicole or Garrett. And if I don't get out of here with it before Nicole wakes and makes her way down, I'll have a hard time keeping it from her this time. I want to be around when she reads it. I think..."

"Are the stories in the book really that bad?"

"Well, there's no tales of us murdering anyone, nothing exactly illegal, no drugs. But we were young, single, active men — if you know what I mean, with a badge and a uniform. We took advantage of that uniform at times, for our own personal gain. Free meals...women...whatever."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Francis. Every cop is guilty of using the uniform at least once for his own benefit."

"Not every cop, Pop," Frank replied as he opened the door to leave. "You never did."

Henry lifted his cup to his lips. "Don't be too sure of that," he mumbled.

"I heard that. And I don't believe a word of it."

Frank could hear Henry's chuckle as he stepped out into the dark, cold winter morning. He closed the door behind him, turned up the collar of his overcoat, and headed to the SUV waiting for him.

"Morning, sir. It's a cold one, isn't it," greeted a member of his detail. The man rubbed his gloved hands together before opening the door for Frank.

"Yes, it is," Frank replied as he climbed in. "But I expect things to heat up real fast."

* * *

Frank entered the kitchen after a long day at the office, cold, tired, and hungry. "Smells good in here," he said as he removed his gloves and overcoat. "Whatcha got cooking, Pop?"

"Homemade beef stew," Henry replied, throwing a dish towel over his shoulder after drying the last of the utensils he'd used in the preparation of tonight's dinner.

"Hope it tastes as good as it smells. Did you use Mom's special recipe?"

"Of course I did. Wouldn't make it any other way."

Frank flashed a smile at his dad. After hanging up his coat, he retrieved a glass and a bottle of scotch from the cabinet.

"Where's Nicole?"

"She left already."

"Left? Where was she going?"

Henry gave him a puzzled look. "Didn't she tell you? She was meeting Erin and Linda for dinner and a movie. Some chick-flick, I think."

Frank rolled his eyes. "She did tell me. She called this afternoon. Guess I forgot."

"That kinda day?"

"Yeah."

"I take it Garrett didn't take the news of Lenny's book well."

Frank leaned back against the counter, took a sip of his drink. "That's an understatement. He went ballistic. Insists we make sure it doesn't get released as written, even if we have to sue to keep it from happening."

"How about you? Do you agree with that?"

"I certainly don't want it released as written, but I don't want to have to sue, either. Lenny's a good friend. I'd like him to stay that way."

"Well, you got Garrett's reaction, now you just have to worry about Nicole's. Think hers will be the same?"

"No, I don't think so. She'll be surprised by some of it, but not horribly shocked, I don't think. Nicole's not naive." Frank let out a chuckle. "When we first met and started spending time together, she was constantly trying to get me to lighten up, loosen my tie." He smiled to himself as he recalled her exact words the night of their first "real" date, their first night together.

 _...lose the damn tie, Frank!_

The smile faded as he continued. "There's personal stuff in the book...between me and Mary, when we first met and started dating. Things we did, how I felt about her. Things I haven't shared with Nicole. Things I'd rather her hear from me, rather than reading them in a book written by someone else."

"So...what, Francis? Are you worried Nicole will feel threatened by that?"

"No, I'm not worried about that at all. Nicole knows I love her. It's just...well...I can't help but put myself in her shoes. How I'd feel."

"What do you mean?"

"Well...say Sybil wrote a book—"

"Now that's a book I'd want to read!" Henry replied, his face lighting up. "I bet that woman has some "back in the day" stories to tell."

"Yeah, well, that's kinda the point I'm trying to make. What if she did write such a book, and in it she added personal details concerning Nicole and Daniel's love life? I wouldn't want to sit and read it. And I wouldn't want everyone else I know reading it either. I mean, I know she loved him, that they had a close, special marriage, just as Mary and I did, I just—"

"Don't need to know all the intimate details of it."

"Exactly."

"So, Francis, what about you? Reading that stuff about you and Mary had to have brought up a lot of memories, and emotions for you. Nicole's gonna know that."

"Well, sure it did, Pop. But it doesn't change anything about my feelings for Nicole. I can't imagine my life without her in it. She knows that, too." Frank finished his drink. "Man, that stew smells good." He walked over to the stove, raised the lid of the stewpot, inhaled.

"There's cornbread in the oven to go with it," Henry said.

"Perfect dinner for a cold night." After stirring the stew, Frank helped himself to a sample taste of it. "That's good." As he stirred some more, he said, "Hey, Pop, how about the two of us going to see a movie after dinner tonight. Didn't that new Benghazi movie open today? I kinda want to see that."

"Sorry, son, but you're on your own tonight. I have a date with Lillian."

"A date?"

"Yes, a date!"

"So you two hit it off pretty well New Year's Eve, huh?"

"You could say that."

"That's nice, Pop. I'm glad for you. So maybe I'll give Jamie a call, see if he wants to see a movie with his old man."

"You can call him, but I wouldn't expect him to be sitting around waiting on a call from his dad on a Friday night."

Frank sighed. "No, probably not. Think he's seeing anyone special?"

"Well, I would think you would know that better than me, but no one I'm aware of."

"He doesn't share that stuff with me. He'd be more likely to share it with Erin, or even Nicole."

Henry glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Sorry to cut this conversation short, but Lillian's picking me up in twenty minutes. I've got to go freshen up before she arrives."

"You mean you're not even going to eat some of this delicious stew with me?"

"Sorry, Francis, but why would I want to sit across the kitchen table with you, when I can enjoy a nice dinner with a beautiful woman?"

"No reason I can think of."

Frank turned his attention back to the pot of stew on the stove, sampling it once more.

"Isn't one of the advantages of being married _not_ having to spend Friday night home alone?"

He turned around, only to realize he was alone in the room.

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket to call Jamie. But before calling his son, he called his wife. He missed her, wanted to hear her voice, and to tell her that he loved her.


	3. Part Three — Nicole Reacts

Frank twiddled his thumbs, occasionally casting a quick glance over at Nicole for some — any — sign of reaction from her. She was several pages into _Back In The Day_ , and so far her face had given away nothing.

"Remind me to never play poker with you."

Glancing up from the book, she replied, "I don't play poker."

"Well, you should! You've been reading for twenty minutes now and you've showed no expression whatsoever."

"Are you planning to sit there watching me the whole time I'm reading this?"

"That's the plan."

"Why don't you read your own book? You're making me nervous."

"Fine." Frank reached over for the book on his bedside table, then settled back against his pillows as he opened it to the bookmarked page.

When Nicole made a slight sound a few minutes later, he turned toward her. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I was just clearing my throat. Though this is starting to get interesting."

"Interesting how? Good or bad?"

"Neither so far. Just interesting."

When Frank tried to glance over at the book to see what page she was on, she closed it, keeping her finger inside to mark her page.

"Seriously, Frank? If you keep this up, I'm going downstairs to read."

"Okay! Okay!" He returned to his own book, though it was a waste, as the words passed straight through his head.

Nicole continued to read, smiling at times, even chuckling, as well as grimacing other times. "Well, that's just disgusting."

Frank refrained from asking what she was referring to, allowing her to continue reading uninterrupted, until she turned to him, and said, "You guys were a bit brutal, weren't you?"

"It was necessary at times."

She looked at him in shock. "That sounds like something Danny would say, not you."

"I know. Just keep reading."

"You dogs!" she offered several minutes later, giving him a disapproving look, then returning to her reading. After turning a few pages, she added, "In the ladies restroom at the airport? And you kept watch for him outside the door? While in police uniform? Shame on you, Frank Reagan!"

Frank closed his book, placed it back on the table. "Keep reading. It's gets worse."

A few pages later she commented, "The restroom on the plane? That had to be tight."

"Trust me, it was." He paused, then added, "In my defense, it was a late night flight, and the plane not even half full. And I wasn't in uniform that night. I was off duty."

"Yes, so it says in the book."

Frank knew it was a lame attempt at excusing his behavior, and he wondered why he had even tried.

Nicole continued to read. When she got very quiet, and began to squirm in the bed, Frank knew she had reached the first chapter involving Mary. Several page turns later, she closed the book.

"I think I'll continue reading downstairs."

"Nicole—" Frank pleaded. "Why don't you stop reading for tonight? Finish it tomorrow."

"No, I want to finish it tonight. Just not here. With you."

Frank was still awake when she finally returned, turning her back to him as soon as she got in the bed.

"Want to talk about it?" He asked, placing his hand on her arm.

She moved her arm away from his touch, remaining with her back to him. "Not tonight. It's late."

* * *

Dressed in black and white plaid lounge pants and a black tee shirt, Frank trudged down the stairs, groaning as he stretched the tight muscles of his back. In his younger days, two nights of virtually no sleep had little effect on him; nowadays it pretty much did him in. He'd loved to have slept in this morning, something he and Nicole often did on Saturday mornings when neither had anything pressing on their calendar. But when he'd reached over to pull her close, he'd discovered she had already left the bed.

Catching a whiff of burning wood as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he made a quick detour to the kitchen for a cup of muchly needed coffee, then headed to the den.

Nicole sat cross legged in the middle of the sofa, her own cup of coffee pressed to her chest. She was dressed in black yoga pants and white long sleeved turtleneck. Her feet were bare, exposing red painted toenails. She seemed to be staring straight through the burning flames of the open fireplace.

"I'd offer a penny for your thoughts, except I'm not sure I'm ready to hear them," he said, breaking the silence of the room. A log shifted as if in reply, spatting out a great number of sparks.

"Morning." A half smile seemed all she could offer him.

"I wished you'd stayed in bed. I'd like to have cuddled for a while."

"I'm sorry. I was restless, and didn't want to wake you. I know neither of us got much sleep last night."

"Thanks to Lenny and that damn book!" Frank pointed to the book on the coffee table. "I'd love to toss it in the fire and watch it burn."

"That won't make it go away, Frank."

Frank pursed his lips. "I know." He walked over to the fireplace, stood with his back to it.

"It's actually quite good," Nicole said. "Extremely well written, immediately attention-grabbing, quite entertaining, for the most part. I'm actually envious. It has all the makings of a fiction bestseller — humor, drama, violence, sex, and even romance. It's got it all. In less than five hundred pages. Impressive."

"Well, like I said. Lenny never leaves anything out. I just wish he'd written it as fiction."

"But he didn't. And the fact that it is based on fact, with the current commissioner of New York City it's lead character, it will no doubt be a number one best seller before it even hits the bookstore shelves."

"Not exactly what I want to hear, but Lenny will no doubt be pleased." Frank sipped his coffee, then continued. "Now that you've offered your critique as a writer, how about sharing your personal feelings as the current wife of the lead character."

Nicole took in a deep breath, set her cup on the table. She drew her knees to her chest, hugged them.

"I can't say I actually enjoyed reading about my husband's flings with other women, his sexual escapades."

Frank focused on the leaf pattern of the Orienta rug under his feet. "I didn't expect that you would." Raising his head to make eye contact with her, he quickly added, "But, Nicole we were young and single—"

"I know all that, Frank. You know what keeps going through my head."

"What an arrogant asshole I was back then?"

Nicole chuckled. "No, actually not. Though you do come off that way in the book. All of you do. And the liberal press will certainly eat that up, not to mention all the cop-haters out there."

"I know. I've already been through all that with Garrett. I believe he used the words 'head-knocking, stewardess-banging, hard-drinking, mad dogs."

"That covers it pretty well. He must have made quite a mess on the floor."

"What do you mean?"

"Garrett — when his head exploded. But back to my issue. I can't help but wonder how Mary would feel about the book, having such intimate details of your relationship exposed for the world to read."

"Mary was a very private woman. She wouldn't like it. But Lenny did do Mary justice. He showed her to be the good woman she was."

"Who put up with a lot of crap from you, it seems. The woman deserved a medal."

"That she did. But Mary's not here now. And she knew what she was getting when she married me. She knew how unworthy of her I was. You on the other hand are just now finding all that out."

"Did you think the crap in that book would change my opinion of you?"

"I had that concern. Yes. And you've got to admit. You didn't want any part of me when you came back to bed last night. You made that clear when you turned your back to me. You've never done that before. We've always fallen asleep in each other's arms."

"Frank. It was late. I was tired. That's all."

"No. It was more than that, and we both know it."

"Okay, fine. I had just finished reading intimate details of you and your first wife. So, yes, it was difficult to come back to bed and be intimate with you. Yes, Frank, it bothered me to read all that. I already admitted that to you. What more do you want from me?"

Nicole stood, picked up her empty coffee cup. "I need more coffee."

When she started to leave the room, Frank grabbed her arm. "Nicole—"

"I'm just going to get more coffee, Frank. That's all."

Frank pulled her close, kissed her lips. "I love you, you know that."

"I do know that." She pulled away from him, turned and exited the room.

Frank turned to face the fireplace. Realizing the fire had dwindled, he poked at it while adding two more logs, then sat in one of the easy chairs and waited for Nicole's return.

Several minutes passed before she returned, carrying a plate of assorted pastries.

"I was suddenly starving. Want some?" She placed the plate on the corner of the coffee table as she sat on the end of the sofa next to Frank's chair.

"Back to Mary—"

Reaching for an apple danish, Frank interrupted her. "I don't want to talk about Mary, I want to talk about us."

"That's where I'm headed, Frank. I didn't marry the young cop in that book. Mary did. Obviously she saw past the hell raising badass you were at the time to see the great man you would become. The man you did become. The man I married. Nothing in that book changes who you are now, how I see you, and certainly not how I feel about you. I love you. Nothing anything Lenny Ross or anyone else pens in a book is going to change that."

"You're going to have to deal with a lot when the book comes out though," Frank said. "The press will hound you for your reaction, your friends probably will as well. It's going to be rough going for quite a while, for both of us. For all of the Reagan family, for that matter. Jamie will probably suffer the most. He'll take a lot of heat about his 'old man' in the locker room."

"And my agent will send Lenny a bottle of his favorite drink and a big box of chocolates with a thank-you note enclosed when my book sales skyrocket _again_. I can handle the press, and my friends, and any and all gossip. And Jamie's tough under that soft exterior. He'll be okay. And you will address the press and all the liberals who try to use the book to their advantage with the pride and dignity of the office you hold, just as you have always done. You will get through it, Frank. We will get through it together."

Frank leaned over and kissed her.

"So we're good? You and I?"

"Of course we are, Frank. We will always be good."

 _The End (Perfect Match II Series)_

A/N — Thanks to all who have supported _The Perfect Match Series_ by reading, following, favoriting, and most of all, reviewing. It's been fun.


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